


What I Am Can’t Be Undone

by NachoDiablo



Series: And Then Wolverine Showed Up [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Anal Sex, Angst, Bucky becomes the Winter Soldier but obviously doesn't die, Canon Temporary Assumed Character Death, Come Eating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Howling Commando Logan, M/M, Minor Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Minor Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Pining, Reunions, Unrequited James Barnes/Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 01:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16630484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoDiablo/pseuds/NachoDiablo
Summary: Logan raises a hand to pat Barnes on the shoulder, but drops it to the counter instead. “So what’s a little while longer, huh? At least until we’re out of this shithole of a war.” He raises his hand to signal the bartender again as he pulls a wallet out of his back pocket. “In the meantime, I’ll buy you another drink.”A bemused smile blooms on Barnes’ face as he eyes Logan’s hands. “That’s Falsworth’s wallet.”“It might be his wallet,” Logan grumbles, “but the money in it is mine. Or it would’ve been if he didn’t cheat at cards.”------Crossover where Logan joins the Howling Commandos and has a series of encounters with James Barnes over the coming decades.





	What I Am Can’t Be Undone

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [HellYeahLoganBucky](https://hellyeahloganbucky.tumblr.com/)LoganBucky Fest 2018 Week 2 Prompt: Canon/Crossovers.
> 
> Thanks to [roe87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roe87/pseuds/roe87) for the beta!

“You alright?” Logan sits down heavily next to the young kid at the bar with dark, slicked back hair and a brooding frown. Barnes, Logan remembers, the kid’s name is Barnes.

Barnes shrugs and looks down at his empty glass. “M’fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Logan says.

Barnes raises an eyebrow. “You watching me?”

“Maybe,” Logan says. The kid looks wary, and Logan rolls his eyes. “Not like that. I just… I noticed you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Barnes mumbles. His slounders droop as his eyes dart towards the left. 

When Logan follows Barnes’ gaze, he sees Captain Rogers and Agent Carter talking quietly in the corner. Agent Carter’s eyes shine brightly as she looks up into Rogers’ blushing face. It doesn’t take Logan long to realize that he’s not the one Barnes was hoping would notice him.

“Hey,” he says quietly. Barnes’ eyes flicker over to him dully. Logan clears his throat. “How’ve you been? Since Azzano.”

Barnes’ shoulders hunch up around his ears. “M’fine.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “Yeah. You said that already.”

“Then why’d you ask again?” Barnes snaps.

Logan signals to the bartender, who comes over and fills their glasses to the brim with whiskey. “Listen,” he says, “I was with Rogers when he heard your unit was captured. He was hell bent on getting you outta there. Nothing in this world could’ve stopped him.”

“I know,” Barnes says bitterly. “Because we’re  _ friends.” _

Logan picks up his glass and takes a deep swallow. “It’s more than that,” he says carefully. 

Barnes presses his lips together tightly. “It’s not.”

“It might not be what you wish it was,” Logan says, “but it’s more than what you think. And who knows what’ll happen in the future.”

Barnes chuckles without mirth. “Yeah. You’re right.” He throws back his drink in one swallow and slams the glass on the counter. “I’ve only been waiting a decade for that idiot to notice that I…” He shuts his mouth abruptly and his cheeks flush. 

Logan raises a hand to pat Barnes on the shoulder, but drops it to the counter instead. “So what’s a little while longer, huh? At least until we’re out of this shithole of a war.” He raises his hand to signal the bartender again as he pulls a wallet out of his back pocket. “In the meantime, I’ll buy you another drink.”

A bemused smile blooms on Barnes’ face as he eyes Logan’s hands. “That’s Falsworth’s wallet.”

“It might be his wallet,” Logan grumbles, “but the money in it is mine. Or it would’ve been if he didn’t cheat at cards.”

Barnes smirks, then stops the bartender from filling their glasses and gestures towards the top shelf selection. Logan grins to himself as he puts a few extra coins on the table. It’s not the worst way to waste a few hours.

\- - - - - - -

Logan takes a drag off a stale cigarette and stares out into the still, snowy forest. He’s not exactly sure where they’re at. Somewhere near the Swiss border, probably. He doesn’t listen to the logistic briefings anymore. He shows up, kills Nazis, keeps watch. Eats his rations, plays cards, wins smokes. Sleeps every so often. Rinse and repeat, until every last Hydra base is destroyed.

“You got an extra?”

Barnes is standing in front of him. He nods towards Logan’s cigarette.

Logan and Barnes are usually on watch together these days. Barnes might not see the way Rogers’ sad puppy-dog eyes follow him around, but Logan does. Which is why Rogers keeps pairing them up, no doubt.

The hunted look Barnes carries is enough to throw anyone off kilter, but Logan’s not just anyone. He doesn’t fuss when Barnes needs a minute to get his mind right, or grit his teeth through a phantom pain of whatever the hell they did to him in Azzano. It’s nothing Logan hasn’t seen or been through before, in other lifetimes. It’s nothing he won’t have to endure in a dozen more lifetimes to come.

Barnes seems to appreciate his lack of reaction. Logan appreciates that Barnes doesn’t feel the need to fill every quiet moment with inane small talk. They’ll trade quips or the occasional story, but their silences are long and comfortable as well.

“You don’t smoke,” says Logan. He takes another drag. They’ve been partnered up enough times for him to know that Barnes wrinkles his nose in poorly concealed distaste when Logan’s cigarettes send tendrils of smoke around his face. Logan smirks to himself as he wonders what Barnes would say to a facefull of cigar smoke. Lucky for him, Logan hasn’t seen a decent cigar in weeks.

“I smoke sometimes,” Barnes insists. He’s got his arms folded across his chest, and he seems tense.

“Well, you’re not smoking tonight,” Logan says. “This is my last one.”

Barnes drops his arms and steps closer. His shoulders are thrown back, and there’s a stubborn set to his jaw. He reaches out slowly for Logan’s cigarette. Barnes’ fingers trace lightly over Logan’s as he takes it and raises it to his own lips, bitten and red from the cold.

Logan watches in silence as Barnes wets his lips and takes a drag. Barnes’ eyes are an icy blue, but something smoulders in them as they remain locked with Logan’s. Barnes is clearly out of practice, but he manages not to cough as he inhales. Curls of smoke escape his pursed lips and drift lazily into the frosty air.

He’s not so lucky on the second puff. He bursts into a coughing fit and drops the cigarette to the ground, bending slightly as he tries to catch his breath.

“Fuck’s sake, kid!” Logan pounds his fist lightly against Barnes’ back. “Take it easy!”

“M’fine,” Barnes chokes out. He straightens up and coughs one last time as he wipes at his eyes. His lashes are wet with tears, thick and sooty as he blinks rapidly to clear them.

“Maybe  _ you _ are,” Logan grumbles, “but that was my last smoke.”

Barnes opens his mouth, but closes it before he gets a word out. His brow furrows as his gaze darts back and forth along the ground. Logan is about to ask if he’s feeling sick when suddenly Barnes lunges towards him and smashes their lips together.

Logan is surprised, but keeps his cool as he rests his hands on Barnes shoulders and pushes him back, gently but firmly. “What are you doing?” he asks in a low voice.

“What’s it look like?” Barnes’ tone is defiant, but his voice shakes on the last word. 

Logan shakes his head. “We’re not doing this.”

“Why not?” Barnes asks stubbornly. “It’s cold and miserable, and I could get my ass shot off any day now. I know  _ you  _ won’t,” he adds with a pointed look, “but I might.”

Logan raises an eyebrow, but Barnes looks back unwavering. None of the other Howlies have brought attention to the fact that Logan emerges from every skirmish without a scratch. He supposes being under the command of a supersoldier lessens one’s shock to such things.

Logan shakes his head, and is about to protest again when Barnes presses a hand against his chest. “Please,” he whispers hoarsely. His fingers dig into the rough cloth of Logan’s jacket. “I need… please.”

Logan sighs, and glances around furtively. “Come here,” he says. He pulls Barnes closer and tilts his head up to capture Barnes’ lips with his own. They’re chapped, but warm. Logan tugs at the plush bottom lip with his teeth, and Barnes hisses out a moan.

As their kiss deepens, Barnes pushes his hips against Logan’s. The hard lengths of their dicks press against each other through their thick pants. Logan runs his hands down to cup Barnes’ ass posessively. He knows he should slow things down, but the soft mewling noises Barnes makes as Logan nips at his jaw make it hard to justify anything except  _ more, now. _

He manages to get hold of his senses when Barnes starts to undo Logan’s belt buckle. A quick glance at Barnes’ trembling fingers, and Logan pulls back slightly. He reluctantly moves one hand from Barnes’ ass to still his fumblings, then cups his jaw so their eyes can meet.

“You ever done this before?” Logan asks.

Barnes scowls. “I ain’t some virgin,” he mutters, but his eyes dart to the ground and his cheeks flush.

Logan bites back a smirk. “That’s not what I asked.”

Barnes blush deepens. “No,” he admits. “I’ve never… not with…”

Logan silences him with a kiss. “It’s fine,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

\- - - - - - -

“More,” Barnes gasps. “C’mon,  _ more, _ give it to me!”

Logan grits his teeth and fucks into Barnes harder. His fingers dig angry bruises into Barnes’ hips. Barnes’ fists clutch desperately at the bedroll as he pushes back against Logan’s thrusts. 

“Fuck!” Barnes’ hissed curse is smothered against the sheets. Logan presses his head against the small divet in Barnes’ back between his shoulder blades. He moves one hand to wrap around Barnes’ dick and starts to pump in time with his thrusts.

Barnes muffles his moans as his body tightens around Logan’s dick and he comes in hot, sticky spurts across the bedding and Logan’s fingers. Before Logan can move his hand, Barnes grips his wrist and pulls it up towards his face. He turns to look over his shoulder. His eyes watch Logan’s face as he sucks Logan’s fingers between his lips. The hot, wet feel of Barnes’ mouth around him as the come is licked clean from his fingers by those swollen lips and pink tongue makes Logan’s brain stutter for a moment.

His release follows shortly after with a few final thrusts, and he collapses against Barnes’ back breathlessly. He carefully shifts them to their sides, still half-hard as he slides out of Barnes’ tight heat. 

“Only a few hours left,” Barnes whispers. 

Logan frowns against Barnes’ shoulder. “It’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Barnes huffs.

“I don’t know shit,” he says with a grin. Barnes chuckles at that, though it’s a bit choked.

They’ve got another mission in a few hours. Rogers thinks they might have a shot at capturing Zola this time. Logan tries not to be tired by his optimism. There’s always a new monster to chase down. It never stops. Never will, for him.

“D’you think…” Barnes hesitates, then falls silent. 

Logan doesn’t ask him to elaborate. He buries his nose in the damp, sweaty hairs at the nape of Barnes’ neck and breathes in his salty scent. Neither of them speak as they breathe in and out together. 

Eventually, Logan pushes himself up on his elbow and grabs a mostly-clean undershirt from the floor of the tent. He cleans up their mess haphazardly and tosses the shirt aside as he curls himself back around Barnes’ back. Barnes’ muscles are tensed, and his shoulders are hunched slightly.

“No point in worrying,” Logan says. He idly strokes the flat plane of Barnes’ stomach. “Not like it’ll make a difference.”

“Nothing will,” Barnes replies. “Not anymore.”

Logan doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says nothing. Barnes gets moody sometimes. Logan doesn’t like to acknowledge it. War’s bad enough in general. No need to focus on the exceptionally shitty parts.

Besides, there’s no need for Barnes to worry. Rogers would sooner slit his own throat than let anything happen to his best friend again, and Logan’s ready to die as many times as he needs to in order to keep the Howlies safe. 

All of the Howlies, but especially Barnes.

\- - - - - - -

“Cap!” Logan barks. “What the fuck happened?”

Rogers looks ready to leap out the open boxcar door. He pauses at the sound of Logan’s voice and turns sharply. Face pale, eyes wild. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t say a word. 

He doesn’t need to.

\- - - - - - -

Logan snorts derisively at the note, then rolls it up and sticks one end in the fire until it catches a spark. He uses the embers to light his cigar before he tosses the note into the fireplace. It unfurls as it’s consumed by the flames.

_ -known as the Winter Soldier. True identity is unknown, but I suspect you may be able to shed some light on- _

\- - - - - - -

Logan glances down at his ancient Nokia flip phone, held together with duct tape. He recognizes the number, but doesn’t answer. The caller doesn’t leave a voicemail. 

Logan’s thumbs are clumsy as he taps out a text. 

_ On my way. Once a Howlie, always a Howlie. Don’t tell Stark I’m in town. _

He throws a spare set of clothes and a toothbrush into a backpack and heads towards the Toronto Union station.

\- - - - - - -

The beeping of Rogers’ heart monitor harmonizes nicely with the Marvin Gaye that streams softly from Wilson’s phone. Wilson looks up to stare at Logan, who’s slouched in the doorway. Wilson’s eyes are rimmed in dark circles. He sits next to Rogers’ bed with one hand propped under his chin and the other laced tightly through Rogers’ own.

“He’s gonna go looking for Barnes,” Wilson says quietly.

“I know,” Logan replies, “but he’s not gonna find him.”

Wilson smiles sadly. “Yeah,” he says, “I know.”

\- - - - - - -

Logan leans back in his porch chair as he inhales off his cigar. He doesn’t glance over at the edge of his property where the yard gives way to woods. He pointedly looks away as he blows smoke rings into the crisp fall air.

“You got an extra?”

Logan takes another puff. “You smoke now?”

Barnes has appeared at the edge of the porch. He’s clad in a faded flannel shirt and worn jeans, with  a baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes. He stands still and silent, hands shoved into his front pockets, but his eyes dart nervously around the yard. “I‘m not sure,” he hedges.

“You don’t have to be,” Logan says. He stubbs out the cigar and runs a hand through his hair. “Rogers’ buddy came through here last month. Looking for you.”

“His boyfriend,” Barnes corrects. “Wilson’s his boyfriend.”

Logan watches Barnes carefully, but Barnes’ face belies no emotion. “I know that,” Logan says slowly, “but I wasn’t sure if you did. Wasn’t sure if you wanted to know.”

Barnes flinches. “There’s a lot of things I don’t want to know these days,” he says flatly, “but that’s not one of them.” One hand slides from his pocket and adjusts the strap on the black backpack slung from his shoulders. He shifts his weight and chews on his lower lip, eyes still trained anywhere except Logan.

Logan gets up from his chair. He rolls his shoulders and nods towards the back door. “You coming in?” 

Barnes hesitates, then nods and follows Logan into the house. He stands awkwardly by the door as Logan heads to the kitchen and digs through the cabinets. “You want coffee?” Logan calls over his shoulder. “I got instant. Tastes like shit, but it gets the job done.”

Barnes doesn’t answer. Logan fishes the Nescafe out of the bottom cabinet and sets it on the counter. He turns to ask Barnes if he’s hungry, but the question dies on his lips.

Barnes’ shoulders are hunched up by his ears. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut, with hands curled into tight fists that dig into his thighs. He forces out strangled breaths between gritted teeth. The black backpack lies on its side by his feet.

Logan strides over and grips Barnes’ shoulders tightly. They’re broader than he remembers. Stronger. “It’s fine, kid,” he says in what he hopes is a soothing voice. “It’ll be fine.”

Barnes’ eyes fly open, and they shine with unshed tears. “It’s  _ not _ fine,” he says in a hoarse voice. “It  _ can’t _ be fine, not after… I’ve been…  _ fuck.” _ Barnes closes his eyes again. A few tears slip out and catch on his thick fringe of lashes.

Logan reaches up and wipes the tears from the crease of Barnes’ left eye. “Everything’s fine here,” he says. “Fuck the past. Fuck everything outside this house. Right here, right now, that’s all that matters.”

Barnes lets out a shuddering sigh. Logan leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his lips. “Stop thinking,” he whispers gruffly. “Always was a bad habit of yours.”

Barnes whimpers as he relaxes his shoulders and reaches tentatively for Logan’s waist. Logan feels the pressure of his metal hand, but doesn’t acknowledge it as he pulls Barnes in for another kiss.

Their movements aren’t the rough, rushed fumblings of their wartime trysts. Logan takes his time as he undresses Barnes, runs his fingers, lips and tongue across every inch of bare skin. He avoids the scarring around Barnes’ left shoulder that makes him cringe, and focuses on the parts that make Barnes moan softly. The edge of his collarbone, the cut lines of his hips, the soft skin of his inner right wrist.

When Logan finally enters Barnes, he’s slow, gentle, but it’s no less intense as Barnes gasps beneath him. 

Afterwards, they lie silently side by side on sweat-dampened sheets. Barnes stares blankly up at the ceiling. Logan watches him out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t ask Barnes to stay. Doesn’t ask where he’s going next. 

He inches his hand across the sheets to thread his fingers through Barnes’ and brush a thumb lightly across his knuckles. Barnes closes his eyes and lets the corner of his mouth turn up slightly.

\- - - - - - -

Logan rises with the sun the next morning, but Barnes is already gone. There’s no trace of his presence in the house, save for the brown leather jacket that’s missing from Logan’s coat rack.

Logan grabs his last cigar and heads out to the back porch. He notices a glint of silver on the edge of the railing. It’s a tarnished lighter, engraved with the initials J.B.B. He picks it up and runs the callous of his thumb over the initials. He’ll have to polish it before Barnes comes around again.

Logan smiles as he lights the cigar. The smoke drifts up to mingle with the morning mist.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://samstevebuckyhq.tumblr.com/) flailing over all things MCU. A rebloggable post for this fic is [here](https://samstevebuckyhq.tumblr.com/post/180136969721/what-i-am-cant-be-undone-written-for-the).


End file.
